


The Secret Admirer

by remanth



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Flowers, Lestrolly, Mollstrade, Molstrade, Roses, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly is getting flowers at work and has a secret admirer</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roses

Molly Hooper had a secret admirer. At least, she thought she did. Lately, when she'd been coming in to work in the morning, she'd find a single rose sitting on her desk. The simple flower made her smile every day, something she looked forward to. She hadn't told anyone yet, especially not Sherlock. Molly didn't want him to ruin the mystery just yet.

The first flower had been a white rose. It was draped over her keyboard with a note attached that said For You. The flower had appeared after a particularly trying day and Molly had been dreading working today. She still had the autopsies of two children after a fatal car crash the day before. She had grabbed an old mug and placed the flower in water on her desk.

About a week later, a yellow rose had shown up on her desk. The same note was attached to it, this time with yellow ribbon. The note was handwritten and Molly thought she could almost recognize the writing. That flower went into the same old mug and stayed on her desk until all the petals had dropped off.

This trend continued, a flower appearing every week, then twice a week, to every other day to every day. The colors always changed, the ribbon holding the note matching the hue of the flower. Part of Molly wanted to know who it was giving her the roses but another part didn't. If she found out, would this end?

Once the last petal had fallen from each flower, she kept it and placed it in an old scrapbooking binder she'd once bought. Molly had never done anything with it, realizing that she didn't have much to fill the book with. Each petal had its own page with its note, the date written in Molly's efficient, small writing in the corner.

The day she received a pink rose, Molly blushed almost the same shade. She'd been looking up the meaning of the colors and pink was for love. She was extra careful with this rose, carefully patting it once it was in the mug of water. That day was slow, so Molly sat at her desk and stared at the flower. It was also the same day she went out for drinks with Greg Lestrade and John Watson.

"Here's to a good man starting over," John said, lifting his pint and waiting while the others did the same. "You're ex-wife doesn't know what she's missing."

"Thanks," Greg murmured before they all drank. "It's official today. The divorce is final."

"I'm sorry, Greg," Molly said, pressing his shoulder with hers. "We're here for you, you know, if you ever want to talk."

Greg shook his head, a sad smile crossing his face. The three friends finished their pints in silence then Molly signalled for another round. She was halfway through that pint when the roses popped into her mind. She smiled as a warmth burst through her chest.

"What has you so happy?" Greg asked, staring at her.

"It's kind of silly," Molly admitted. "But I think I have a secret admirer."

"Really? Why do you say that?" John asked. He was drinking slower than the other two knowing he'd have to drive later.

"I've been getting these roses lately," Molly explained. "Different colors all with the same note. For You. It's really sweet. Today, I got a pink one. According to google, pink roses stand for love."

Greg didn't say anything, just drank quickly. John laughed warmly, sharing a smile with Molly. She clanked glasses with him and downed the rest of her beer.

"Hey, Greg, maybe you could help me," Molly suggested, hoping to lighten the DI's sorrow. "You could help me figure out who's sending them to me. Check the handwriting or dust for fingerprints or something."

"Yeah sure," Greg said softly. He checked his watch and swore quietly. "I have to go. I have to pick up my daughter from her practice."

The DI slid out of the booth, grabbing one of the coasters and pulling a pen out of his pocket. He wrote his name and cellphone number on it before handing it to Molly. She studied it, the handwriting looking eerily familiar.

"Just give me a call sometime," Greg said before nodding at them and leaving. Molly turned the coaster in her fingers, studying the letters of Greg's name. The R had a strangle little squiggle at the bottom, as if Greg was trying to not change from printing to cursive. Then, it hit her.

"Oh my god," Molly exclaimed, showing the coaster to John. "I think... it might be Greg sending me the roses."


	2. Tonight

John listened while Molly explained the handwriting similarities, a look of polite disbelief on his face. _Greg_ sending her flowers when his divorce was just final? It didn’t seem like a thing the DI would do and John decided to tell Molly exactly that.

“I don’t think it’s him,” he started to say, taking a final sip of his pint. “Greg is a very honorable person. I don’t think he’d start... courting for lack of a better word, another woman while still married. Even if he was going through divorce proceedings.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Molly argued, her lips turning down into an angry pout. “The roses started out as white and progressed through many different colors. Only the one I got today meant love. The others meant friendship, caring, affection, things like that. Things that Greg didn’t seem to be getting or giving his ex-wife. And the handwriting, John. It’s so similar.”

John stared at the note Greg had left again, comparing the writing with the note from the flower that Molly had stuffed into her pocket. He had to admit, there were definitely some letters written exactly the same. He handed both pieces of paper back to Molly with a sigh, hoping he wouldn’t have to give advice. John was still having problems dealing with his feelings for Sherlock. Who was he to be giving advice on relationships to others?

“So?” Molly asked, tucking both scraps of paper away carefully. She picked up her glass, taking a deep drink and prolonging the time until John answered. Molly was almost afraid of what he would say.

“You may be right,” John admitted, grimacing. “I did see him eyeing you on Christmas last year. He looked shocked to see you in that dress.”

“It’s my best one,” Molly said softly, a small smile crossing her lips. “I’m glad _someone_ noticed. What do you think I should do, John? Should I ask him about it?”

John thought about it, shifting his glass in circles on the table. Greg seemed to be fairly shaken still by the divorce, much as he’d known his wife was cheating on him. But if he was reaching out to Molly, even anonymously, it might mean he was ready to move on. Perhaps had been for a while.

“That depends on where you want to take this if it is him,” John temporized. “Do you like Greg?”

Molly bit her lip, wondering if she should confess this all to John. While Greg had been married, he’d been safe. Someone Molly could like from a distance, especially after the disaster with Jim. That liking had slowly deepened until Molly had wished desperately Greg wasn’t married so she might have a chance.

“Yes,” she murmured. “And if he’s willing, I want to have a go at a relationship with him.”

“Well, there you go,” John said, waving a hand theatrically. He was slightly tipsy, though not enough to really impair his driving. “See if you get another flower. If you do, ask him about it.”

“I think I’ll do that,” Molly said decisively, taking a long last drink of her beer. “Would you walk me to my car?”

“No, but I’ll drive you home,” John replied, smiling. “I don’t want you driving.”

“Thanks,” Molly said, smiling back. They paid their tab and walked out, Molly’s mind working through several ways of bringing the flowers up with Greg. Though, by the time she’d tumbled into bed that night, she hadn’t decided on a good approach.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Two days later, she went back into the morgue and found another flower sitting on her desk. It was white, which surprised Molly. The secret admirer had never repeated a flower color. Similar shades, yes. But not exact ones. She picked it up carefully, looking at the note attached with a snowy white ribbon.

_For You, Molly_

Molly smiled as she saw it, the writing now easily recognizable as Greg’s. She put the flower in the old mug, placing the note against it so that she could read it every time she looked up. Pulling out the scrap of paper with Greg’s number on it, Molly stared at it for several moments before making up her mind. No time like the present, right? She called the number, waiting breathlessly before Greg picked up.

“Lestrade,” he said, businesslike. Molly could hear muted talking in the background and assumed he was in his office.

“Hey, Greg, are you busy?” she asked, voice a bit shrill with nervousness.

“Not at the moment, no,” Greg replied and Molly could plainly hear the wariness in his voice. “What did you need, Molly?”

“I got another flower today,” Molly said carefully, hoping that he wouldn’t reject her outright. Hoping that’s not what the flower meant. “I was wondering if maybe you could come to the hospital and look at the note with me?”

“Can you give me about half an hour?” Greg asked, scrubbing a hand over his face. His heart sank as he realized Molly might have figured out he was the one sending the flowers. “My lunch break starts then.”

“Of course,” Molly said brightly, layering false cheer into her tone. “See you then.”

Molly hung up, busying herself with reports for the half hour until Greg got there. Her skin hummed with anticipation, her mind again whirling through different ways of how their meeting might go. When Greg knocked on the door of her office, she jumped and yelped, so absorbed was Molly in her thoughts.

“Hi,” she said, turning and smiling at him.

“Hi,” Greg replied, staring at the white rose in the mug on Molly’s desk. “So, your secret admirer strikes again, huh?”

“I know it’s you,” Molly blurted out, her mouth moving without any input from her brain. She blushed when Greg’s eyes whipped to hers, startlement and wariness in his. She waved at the chair in front of her desk, hoping Greg would sit and not run. He did and Molly breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, I have two questions for you,” Molly said when the silence stretched between them for too long. “One, do you still care for me? And two, if yes to the first answer, do you want to go on a date tonight?”


	3. Sneeze

Molly waited impatiently, fear and doubt crowding her mind as Greg sat and stared at her. She could see hesitation in his eyes as well as a strange longing coupled with doubt that made her wish desperately she could read his mind. Molly had no idea what might be going through Greg’s head at the moment. Finally, he dropped his eyes and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Molly felt her heart sink as this seemed to be a rejection. Until she saw the slight smile on Greg’s face.

“I do still like you,” Greg said, meeting Molly’s eyes again. “And I would love...”

But before he could finish the sentence, a violent sneeze burst out of him. The sound echoed throughout the morgue for a few seconds while Greg looked sheepish. Molly giggled a little and passed him a tissue from the box on her desk.

“Thanks,” Greg said. “Anyway, before I rudely interrupted myself, I would love to go on a date with you. But I think I’m coming down with a cold so maybe this weekend instead of tonight?”

“Sure. Wouldn’t want you sneezing the whole date, would we?” Molly asked, smiling widely. Relief and joy coursed through her as Greg smiled back and nodded. Maybe, just maybe, things would go right this time. After all, Greg wasn’t a criminal mastermind like Jim had been. He was just a kind man who worked too hard.

“You know, I’m glad you weren’t offended by the flowers,” Greg said conversationally, pointing his chin at the white rose sitting in the mug.

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Molly reassured him. “They were actually something I really looked forward to. I came into work with a smile on my face because one might be sitting on my desk. How did you get them in here?”

“I have a friend who works here,” Greg explained. “I asked him to help me and he agreed. Said something along the lines of you finally having someone pay attention to you would be a good thing.”

Molly blushed at that, wondering who could possibly be Greg’s friend. Though, the man was entirely correct. Sherlock just used her to further his experiments or cases and Jim had used her to get close to Sherlock. No one seemed to want her just for her. But Greg did.

“I’ve been keeping the last petal and the note from each flower and putting them in a scrapbook,” Molly finally said, moving on from Greg’s friend. “I also wrote what each color meant under the petal. Did you really mean them all?”

“I did, though the love might be more caring and a wish for more,” Greg said, a light flush on his face. His phone beeped before he could say anymore and he sighed. Checking it, Greg saw that it was a text from Donovan about a body that had been found. “However, work calls. I’ll see you this weekend?”

“Yes, that sounds wonderful,” Molly replied. She stood when Greg did, acting impulsively and hugging him before he left. Greg looked surprised and pleased, hugging back tightly before saying goodbye. Molly sat back down to work on her reports, the day flying by. She could hardly wait for this weekend.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

By the time the weekend rolled around, Greg was tiredly looking forward to his date with Molly. The case he’d been working on had dragged him all around London, looking at each of the places the victim had stopped at the day he’d died. It had taken several insults from Sherlock and a long, sleepless night before they’d caught the murderer.

After showering the muck of the day off himself and dressing, Greg called Molly. They hadn’t set a specific day for the date but it was the weekend now. Even if it was just Friday evening. And the cold that had threatened earlier in the week had gone, tea with honey and cough drops keeping the DI going at work. Molly picked up on the fourth ring and Greg smiled when he heard her voice.

“Hey, Molly,” he said happily, settling himself in his old, squashy armchair. “I was wondering if you were free tonight? No more cold so I won’t be sneezing everywhere and I finished with my case.”

“I am, yes,” Molly replied, setting the bowl of food she’d prepared for Toby down on the floor for the cat. “Are you ready to go on our date?”

“Yes and I was thinking maybe we could get dinner and go to the cinema?” Greg asked, fiddling with the tie he’d decided to wear.

“Sounds wonderful,” Molly replied, walking into her bedroom and studying her clothes. She always had a hard time with this, wondering what she should wear. Clothes could say so many different things. She decided to shower first then decide. “Can you pick me up in about an hour?”

“See you then,” Greg said, still smiling as they hung up. Though, now that he thought about it, he was going to be restless and nervous for the entire hour. He decided to kill the time by watching some crap telly, hoping the lives of fictional characters could distract him for a while.

Molly showered and styled her hair, letting it fall over one shoulder. She picked out a simple skirt and blouse, deciding to look dressy but still casual. Keeping her makeup light, Molly decided she was done. She looked at the clock and realized she still had about twenty minutes until Greg showed up and spent that time petting Toby and watching telly.

At almost exactly an hour, Greg knocked on Molly’s door and waited restlessly. He carried a single rose, this one a deep and vibrant purple. When Molly opened the door, all Greg could do was stare; she looked absolutely beautiful.

“Is that for me?” Molly asked, pointing to the rose Greg held.

“Uh, yeah, yeah it is,” Greg replied, handing her the rose. Molly sniffed it, a smile coming to her face. “It means protection and adoration.”

“Thank you,” Molly said, turning her smile on Greg and he swore his stomach flipped. He hadn’t felt this nervous about a date since he was a teenager. “Let me just put it in some water. Come on in.”

Molly walked to the kitchen, leaving the door open so Greg could come in. He did and closed the door behind him, looking around Molly’s flat. It was very much like her: clean with a little untidiness, knick-knacks sitting on shelves and throw pillows and afghans on the couch and chairs. Greg decided that he liked Molly’s flat, it was cute.

“Ready,” Molly called out, coming out of the kitchen with the rose in a slim, glass vase. She placed it on her coffee table and then linked arms with Greg, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“How does Italian sound?” Greg asked, leading the way out to his car. He held the door for Molly, closing it behind her then circled around to get in on the driver’s side.

“Sounds perfect,” Molly replied, smiling. The drive was easy and relaxed, the two trading stories about their jobs. Both were a little hesitant to get into deep topics, knowing that the other had been hurt before. By the time they got to the restaurant, Greg and Molly had relaxed with each other, smiling easily and laughing.

Dinner went smoothly, coy glances and sly smiles traded over drinks and their meals. Greg found himself touching Molly’s hand quite often, whether it was for emphasis for a story or just to pass her something. Everything was perfect and he couldn’t be happier.

Molly was thrilled at the attention she was getting and giving. Greg paid attention to _her_ listening when she told a story. She could tell he enjoyed her listening while he spoke and that she didn’t get bored with his stories. But, to be honest, she was a pathologist and he was a detective inspector. Most of the stories they had to tell would have shocked, disgusted, or offended others.

By the time dessert came, Molly had decided that she didn’t want to change the ambiance of the date by going to a cinema. It seemed almost criminal to introduce something fictional into the date, even if it was just a movie. As she ate, Molly considered the best way to go about changing the evening while listening to another story of Greg’s early days on the force.

“This was wonderful,” Molly said when Greg was finished with his story. She indicated the dessert with her fork and the meal as a whole with a slight wave. “But, I don’t think I’m in the mood for the cinema tonight.”

“I see,” Greg said, unable to stop the regretful look from crossing his face. “Would you like me to take you home after dinner?”

“I would, yes,” Molly said, catching Greg’s eyes and smiling. “And I would like you to come with me.”


	4. Merriment

Greg paid for their meal and barely kept his fingers from trembling with nervousness and excitement. He had butterflies in his stomach again. Every time he glanced over at Molly, he felt a silly grin cross his face. Once he was done, he took Molly’s hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm to lead her out to the car. He wasn’t quite sure where the night was leading but was completely willing to travel there with her.

Molly was fighting shivers of her own. The fact that Greg hadn’t spoken, just showed her exactly what he wanted by glances and smiles made the situation slightly more surreal. She and Greg were moving almost in lockstep, complete agreement over where this evening was going. The silence wasn’t broken on the drive. Molly kept meeting Greg’s eyes when he would glance to her, her heart hammering in her chest.

Finally, Greg parked outside of Molly’s flat. He turned the car off and just sat there, fiddling with the keys. He turned to Molly to see that she had turned to face him. Greg took a deep breath and leaned across to kiss her. Molly kissed him eagerly, her mouth opening to welcome in his tongue. She raised a hand to his cheek, thumb caressing over the cheekbone.

“I... I want you to come inside,” Molly whispered, breaking their kiss. She felt her skin flushing again and tried to ignore it. She held her breath while Greg stared at her, hoping he wouldn’t say no.

“Sure,” Greg finally said when her words made it through the fog in his brain. “I’d like that.” Molly’s smile felt like it brightened the entire car. Greg found himself smiling back automatically. After a few moments of just looking at each other, they both got out of the car. Molly led the way this time, unlocking the door to her flat and bringing Greg inside.

Once there, Greg waited until they had both taken their coats off before pulling Molly into his arms. Turning, he pressed her into the wall next to the kitchen and kissed her. He teased at her lips, nibbling and pulling back, until they were both nearly breathless. Molly laughed, sliding her fingers into Greg’s hair.

“I hope that’s not where you’re planning on stopping,” she whispered.

“No,” Greg told her, leaning down to capture her lips again. “I don’t want to push you too fast.”

“I’ll tell you if I want to stop,” Molly promised then kissed him hard. Her tongue swept past his lips to tease his. She explored his mouth, tickling at the roof and wrapping her tongue around his. Greg groaned and pressed against her hard. One hand skimmed down her side and rested on her hip. Molly moaned and pumped her hips into Greg’s.

“Bedroom?” Greg suggested, hoping that Molly wouldn’t get offended. She nodded, grasping his hand and leading the way to her bedroom. Once there, Greg captured her lips again and slid his hands underneath her shirt. Molly moaned again and arched into Greg, her hands tightening on his shoulders.

With a small grin, Molly stepped back and pulled Greg onto the bed with her. She worked on the buttons of his shirt. As each was released, she kissed and licked over the revealed skin. Once it was completely unbuttoned, Greg rolled his shoulders and let the shirt slide off his arms to the floor. Eager to return the favor, Greg rucked up Molly’s shirt and then pulled it over her shoulders. He pressed kisses to her collarbone before sliding her bra straps down her arms.

Molly sat up to undo the snaps and tossed the bra down to the floor next to their shirts. She moaned when Greg licked down to one breast and took her nipple into his mouth. Grabbing onto his shoulders, she rocked against him while Greg rolled her nipple between his teeth.

“Greg, I need you to touch me,” Molly whimpered. She blushed immediately, surprised at herself. Normally, she didn’t speak like that. But it seemed to have the opposite effect on Greg. He grinned up at her and nodded. Gently, he rubbed a hand up her leg and underneath her skirt. Molly lay back down to give him more room. He teased at the very top of her thighs until Molly was squirming with repressed laughter. This was new; merriment wasn’t often part of sex for her. She was usually too nervous.

“You’re beautiful, Molly,” Greg whispered reverently before letting his fingers brush over her. He could feel a slick wetness on his fingers and wanted to taste. Drawing back, he slid Molly’s skirt down her legs and drop to the floor. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath and Greg took a moment to just look. She truly was beautiful.

“What are you doing?” Molly asked, looking up and meeting his eyes. There was nervousness in her eyes again and Greg smiled to help dispel it.

“Just enjoying the moment,” he replied, stroking gently over her ankle. He smiled then rearranged himself comfortably between her legs. Molly gasped when she realized what exactly he wanted to do but managed not to tense up. Greg gripped her hips and rubbed soothing circles on the skin. Pressing a gentle kiss to each side of her lips, he licked a stripe up the cleft. Molly gasped Greg’s name, her body arching up off the bed.

After another kiss, he started to lick and suck steadily. Molly continued to moan, pleas mixed with Greg’s name falling from her mouth. She threaded her fingers into his hair and led him to where everything felt the most intense. Greg couldn’t get enough of the taste of her, continuously swiping his tongue down to taste as more of the slick fluid flowed out of her. Molly felt her body tightening up as she grew close to orgasming, the pleas turning to wordless moans. Finally, get sucked hard on her clit and that drove her over the edge. Molly came with a scream, her fingers tightening in Greg’s hair as she writhed on the bed.

“Oh, Greg,” Molly breathed, awe in her voice. She smiled as Greg slid up the bed to lay down next to her.

“What are you thinking?” Greg asked her, trailing his fingers up her stomach and over one breast.

“I’m thinking that that was really good,” Molly replied, her hands drifting down to Greg’s pants. She undid the button and zipper, sliding Greg’s pants and boxers down over his hips. He kicked them off, a smile on his face. Once he was naked, Molly rolled over on top of him and straddled his hips. She stroked Greg’s erection a few times, learning the shape of him, before stretching up and sinking down onto him.

“Fuck Molly!” Greg swore, his hands flying to her hips and holding tight. He was pretty sure he was going to leave bruises, but Molly didn’t seem to mind. Molly chuckled and slowly rocked down, taking the entirety of Greg’s erection inside her. Once they had gotten used to each other, Molly started to ride him in earnest, her hips moving in circles as he pumped up and down. Greg watched her avidly, his hands traveling over her hips to her waist and up to her breasts. They moaned together, never breaking eye contact.

After several minutes, Greg wrapped his arms around Molly’s shoulders and rolled them. Molly wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned up to bite at his neck. Greg thrust sharply into her, dropping his head down to rest above her heart. They moved together, moans and cries exchanged. Greg pressed kisses to her skin as Molly rubbed her hands up and down his back. Soon, he felt the coiling and tightening tell him he was close to orgasm. After a few more thrusts, Greg froze and orgasmed. He sucked hard on Molly’s pulse while he did so and Molly orgasmed again.

They broke apart once they had ridden out the last quakes of their orgasms. Greg kissed her gently and pulled the blanket out from underneath them with much laughter and shifting. The resituated with Molly in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I think we work well, don’t you?” Molly murmured as she felt exhaustion tugging at her.

“I do, yes,” Greg replied, smoothing her hair off her forehead. As they fell asleep tangled together, Greg blessed the random thought that had led him to sending Molly a single rose that first time. It definitely was one of his better decisions.


End file.
